Saga
by SolBadgirl
Summary: The life of the Mishima Clan. Please R&R. Romance and all that stuff later on. Will probablt get a higher rating later on.
1. Colorless

Never before has color been such a horrific visual.

She was the first person to show him that color wasn't just some distraction from maintaining power.

Color meant _beauty_.

Color meant_ life_.

But now..

All he could see was washes of scarlet red, empty shades of white, and dashes of pale blue that darted past him in a frenzy.

He blacked out.

He could handle bears and sparring matches for days on end, but what he couldn't take was helplessness. After all, he was the one who wanted this one damned wish to become true, and now that it's happening, over twenty-four hours of labor meant pain and suffering for his wife.

His eyes refused to open, though meanwhile his ears were assaulted with hollowed breathing and frantic commands barked by men and women alike.

However, one voice amidst all the chaos spoke out to him in a gurgled cry. That voice alone, that little voice that spoke no true language, was possibly the most beautiful thing he ever heard in his life.

He forced his eyes open again.

Those scarlet red washes became bullets that killed off the white and blue.

With bundle of cloth was quickly placed in his arms, he was ushered from the pandemonium. He finally looked down and saw a crying little baby boy. A boy! He was a handsome little devil; with almond eyes and dark hair that seemed to swirl to a little point near the back of his head.

He will be a typical Mishima. He's already putting up a fuss. His lungs are strong enough for battle cries and his limbs will crush the bones of all opposers. He is perfect. It would only be right to name him...

_Kazuya_.

A homage to the woman that brought him here.

Kazume and Father will be so proud when they see him--

What? An emergency? Why? How?

The child is here. Kazume isn't screaming anymore. What could possibly be wrong?

He had to see her.

Then he saw the sheets cascading over her body. Over her face. Over her life.

This..curse. This..parasite! He should have known that something like this would happen.

This demon spent nine months in his wife's womb only to kill her!

This..thing will pay for taking Kazume away.

The world became grey again.

* * *

a/n: my return to after they deleted my story. 

hopefully I won't give up on this too. please read and review. Or I won't make no more. Really.

oh yeah..

Disclaimer: I do not remotely own the rights of Tekken, nor its characters. Damn it. If Kazuya were mine, I'd...well. Nevermind. I just don't own Tekken.


	2. Inquisition

"Grandpa Jinpachi?"

His fists were pounding away at the elder Mishima's forearm. His punches felt like nothing but a massage at this point, but then again Jinpachi's tough leathery skin was tough enough to handle anything.

"Yes, Kazuya?"

"Am I weak?" The child stopped punching and looked up at his grandfather.

Despite such an odd question coming from a five year old, Jinpachi was not remotely surprised at all. Every since Kazume's death, Heihachi was hell-bent on abusing the boy. Days and weeks would pass with the same routine. Jinpachi would find little Kazuya sprawled out asleep in his own blood inside the temple. Jinpachi approved of this "training" only because he knew deep inside that the child could handle it.

"No, Kazuya. You are the strongest grandson anyone could ask for." He turned away slightly, and the timbre in his voice was guilt-ridden. He knew that Kazuya wasn't convinced one bit. He felt a steady gaze burn deeper than any sunray could on this August day.

Jinpachi turned to the young Mishima once again and met his eye. Perhaps Kazume is the reason why his eyes were bright with innocence, because surely the Mishima clan has always been corrupt. Cursed, even. Why, if she were alive, Kazuya wouldn't ask all of these questions..

"So I am weak..Well..I'll change that! I'll be so strong that I'll take over the Zaibatsu!"

Jinpachi wasn't shocked by the premonition. The boy has potential.

"Sit with this old man, grandson. Let me get a good look at you while you're still small.." Jinpachi was as powerful as an ox, but sitting all the way down on the ground was just ridiculous unless it was for meditation...He'd rather stand on red hot coals. He sat on a rock in front of little Kazuya instead.

Kazuya gathered himself hastily and sat in front of the kind, yet distinguished elder. His respect was unsurmountable to the point that Jinpachi wished his own son was this way.

Jinpachi scooped Kazuya up beside him, and the boy immediately made a pillow out of his stocky thigh.

"Grandpa?"

"Hm."

"Why did I kill mother?"

Silence. Jinpachi looked down at the boy who stared out towards the greenery.

"You didn't kill her."

He hoped that the boy wouldn't ask any more questions regarding the subject. After all, the child already knew how to say most obscenities and forge signatures just from watching his father. This conversation should be closed as soon as possible.

And it was.

Kazuya did not speak again about his mother. In fact, the Mishimas sat and basked in comfortable silence. Jinpachi felt the youth's lifeline slow down from it's typical boil; that could only mean that the boy had finally fallen into a well-deserved slumber. He peered down at his grandson...The steadily falling sun's rays danced a radiant amber across the young prince's face.

It's quite unfortunate that he always fails to witness pure beauty at its finest..

The sun..

Kazume..

And even Heihachi before business became more important than family.

Jinpachi held the boy in his arms while he trekked back home. He silently apologized for the past and future trials this heir will have to endure.


	3. End of Monotony

"He is worthless."

Heihachi affectionately smoothed his authentic suit made completely of out pure tiger's fur. Clearly, the pesky lint meant tons more to him than 'morals'. He was only thirty-one years old, but his appearance would say otherwise. He couldn't believe that over a span of five years, he'd be bald except for two dramatic points of hair jutting out of his head like angry sooty volcanoes. The tanned creases on his face came from the stress that his idiot son gave him everyday.

"You cannot blame him for a crime he did not commit--"

"I can. He is not fit to be under my tutelage. Nor yours." His eyes were distracted by the well crafted golden cufflinks on his sleeves, yet his voice was intense enough to make any of his servants quiver outside. "He's nothing because of your affections..Your.."love"..He has a debt that he can't pay. The least he can do is be molded into something of a fighter...However, we have an obstacle to overcome."

"We have several 'obstacles', Heihachi.." The old Jinpachi's usual sedate eyes were lit with such rage that his own son lifted his face from his cufflinks.

"Indeed we do, Father. And they all come from you."

Before Heihachi could even let the smug satisfaction seep into his hardened features, an electrifying chop crashed against his jaw.

* * *

The youngest Mishima let a quiet yawn begin another somber Sunday morning. He sat up almost mechanically in bed. Kazuya rubbed the sleep from his eyes and opened them up. Though his room was swimming in velvety purples and blacks, usually a sunray would invite itself in and remind him that maybe there really was a such thing called 'hope'. Once he realized that he was immersed in complete darkness even at the bright hour of 8 AM, despair suffocated him into accepting reality. 

He forced himself out of bed, and he scooted towards the seemingly mile-high purple valances. Kazuya spitefully ignored the raps on his door, and snuggled his face between the valances and looked towards the sky.

He had a habit of doing that.

On the better days, his eyes glanced upwards wishing that some angel will feel sorry for him and take him away. The child's wild eyebrows would peak at a lucid cloud's journey towards the West, and he'd always be angered to look down at Heihachi's idiot drones whose cigarette smoke and cursing ruined the whole experience. However, he'd just look up again and even smile when he saw the clouds mocking Heihachi with caricatures of his crass smile and clownish hair.

Strangely enough, no one was outside this morning, and he couldn't see any funny pictures in the clouds today. The silver clouds were assaulted by thick, angry smoky ones, and lightning flashes jumped sporadically behind the skyline.

His eyes went dead once again; Kazuya wouldn't be surprised that Heihachi somehow found out that the sky amused him, and he paid Dr. Abel to invent some stupid machine to make it as ugly as possible.

His stomach churned with hunger and ill omen, and no less than a second later, more knocks and a mousy "It is breakfast time, Master Kazuya" pulled him from his lull. He loathed all of these servants, but the lack of dinner last night took its toll.

The boy looked down at his stomach, then at the slowly turning doorknob.

"Don't come in here, you leech. I heard you the first time."

"Yes..of course, sir.." The butler's voice was strained already, and this spoiled brat is grating his nerves way too early.

"Leave."

The butler sighed and ushered himself away from Kazuya's wing of the mansion.

Kazuya walked downstairs after his shower, dressed in his usual suit, and sat at the dining table. Eggs, sausage, toast, and a cup of kukicha. More monotony, it seems.

* * *

"How _dare_ you forsake me. I begat an entire empire from mutual and sturdy relationships...Because you use malice and intimidate, does not mean that I am an obstacle.." 

Heihachi said nothing. His jaw was forcefully clenched from the jolt his tendons received.

"If you think you can remove me from my flesh and blood, you are sorely mistaken..!" Jinpachi's voice quavered with both wisdom and sheer ignorance. He didn't know that 'flesh and blood' meant absolutely nothing to his son since Kazume died.

A smoldering punch to the liver shut the old man up.

Jinpachi dropped slowly to his knees and gasped thickly. Fiery sparks bursted away at the wound, and Jinpachi clamped away letting out a guttural growl. Heihachi marveled that his own father was bowing at his feet. This was perfect, considering that he's about to take the Zaibatsu into his own hands. He grabbed the elder Mishima's gravity-defying beard and headbutted him onto his back.

"Look at you. How could I ever be under your supervision if you can't notice my plans, Father? You're off-guard, and I'm about to capitalize. Step down with grace, old man." Heihachi regained control of his facial muscles and sneered down at the weakened patriarch. He turned away and walked toward the office's door.

His hand reached for the doorknob, but he felt himself being pulled back by a vacuum of searing energy. He peered over his shoulder.

His father was right where he left him. All he's doing is hobbling to his feet.

_What the hell is going on?_

_Damn it._

_I won't let this old fool recover...I can't._

Heihachi swiftly turned and dashed frenetically.

He returned a gift that his own father bestowed upon him nearly twenty-five years ago...

_An Electric Wind God Fist._


End file.
